


Just the Tip

by blahblahblahblah



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Father/Son Incest, M/M, One Shot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:22:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27834481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blahblahblahblah/pseuds/blahblahblahblah
Summary: Peter is desperate for his father's cock. Tony's never gonna know what hit him.
Relationships: Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Comments: 12
Kudos: 451





	Just the Tip

**Author's Note:**

> Man, I'm a mess. I'm just leaving this here in case anyone is interested...

Tony had always appreciated this time of day. Pepper was upstairs, no doubt already asleep. Not that Tony could blame her. She was busy woman, after all.

Sitting in his worn leather chair, sipping a whisky, _with the door shut,_ thank you very much. He released a deep sigh, settling even further, and stretching his legs out before him. Idly, he wondered where Peter had gotten off to. Tony hadn’t seen him since he got home from school, throwing a ‘hi dad’ over his shoulder as the boy shot upstairs.

Tony smiled wryly, remembering how he was at that age, fifteen and full of so many hormones you couldn’t tell up from down most days. Peter was an angel compared to him. Maybe it was time to have the talk, man to man, like his father did with him. 

Sitting up with a snort, the older man reached for the crystal decanter to his right, topping off his glass. Some talk it had been too, he remembered bitterly; Howard had made it quite clear what he thought of Tony’s interest in other boys. Yet another night Howard had used his belt instead as well as his words. 

Clenching his jaw, Tony thought of Peter, his angel, and resolved to make that a better experience for his boy. Girl or boy, it didn’t matter; no one would ever be good enough for Peter anyway. But Tony would support him, always. 

A knock on the door to his office interrupted his thoughts. So much for that peace and quiet, he grinned to himself, setting his whiskey aside and pushing himself up, and striding to the door. 

Tony was surprised to see Peter at the door, biting his lip in that way he did when he was nervous, and gazing at his father with large doe eyes. Narrowing his eye ever so slightly, Tony studied his son, trying to think of what could possibly have him so nervous this time of night. 

“H-hi dad,” Peter greeted with a shy smile. 

Tony just stood there; eyes narrowed suspiciously and sighed, “What did you do?” 

Raising an eyebrow, Peter broke into a grin, “Let me in Dad,” he laughed, shoving his way into Tony’s office, making a beeline for the chair opposite his own.

Now that was more familiar, Tony thought dryly, returning to his chair, and setting his gaze on his son. Peter was studiously avoiding eye contact with his father, eyes staying on his lap instead, watching his fingers twist knots into his t-shirt.

With his lifelong hatred of silence, Tony figured now would be the perfect time to embarrass his son with the sex talk; whatever Peter obviously wanted to talk about couldn’t be worse than that. Picking up his whiskey once more, Tony hid a devilish grin behind the glass as he casually threw out, “I’m glad you’re here Pete. There was something I wanted to talk to you about.”

Brown eyes shot to his, the boy’s fingers going still as he forced a laugh. “Oh yeah? You finally gonna take me to the lab with you?” 

Chuckling, Tony just shook his head slightly. “No,” he smiled wryly, “nice try though.”

Peter just tilted his head, waiting patiently for his father to tell him whatever it was he needed to tell him.

Tony almost felt bad for the kid. Almost. There was surely some mischief the kid had gotten away with so Tony reasoned he probably had it coming anyway. 

“No, Pete, what I wanted to talk to you about,” he paused dramatically, “was sex.”

“Oh, thank god,” Peter burst out. “Me too!”

Well doesn’t that just ruin the fun, Tony thought grumpily. But why would Peter be bringing this up now, he wondered. Unless – unless maybe he was already having sex? Eyeing the boy warily now, Tony scanned his son from head to toe, certain that he could find some clue that his son wasn’t a virgin anymore. 

About to ask, Peter beat him to it with a role of his eyes, “I haven’t. Not yet, Dad,” eyes lowering shyly. “I would have told you,” he mumbled. 

Exhaling what he hoped was a silent sound of relief, Tony smiled, dipping his head to try and meet his son’s eyes. “Well I appreciate that, Pete,” he smiled encouragingly. “You can tell me anything. I don’t just mean that the way your mom means that. I mean _anything_ ,” he finished teasingly.

Peter lifted his gaze to meet his fathers, teeth pressed into his bottom lip, and ran calculating eyes over him. Little did Tony know that Peter was going to put that to the test. 

Sitting up straighter and placing a hand on each knee, Peter took a deep breath. “Okay. Okay, um, I need advice.” 

“Okay. What kind of advice? How to land a date? Or, you know, be safe? Because safety first, Pete, you do _not_ want to experience that surprise, believe me,” Tony rambled. 

Hiding a smile, Peter interrupted his father. “No,” he began nervously, “I. Well, it’s just that there’s someone…” he trailed off. God, this was harder than he thought. In his head, it had gone much smoother, much more like the porn he watched, if he was being honest. 

Peter was in love with his dad. Yeah. 

It’s just, his dad was so perfect. He was, he was – cutting a glance to the man, slouched provocatively, his sleeves rolled up to the elbow, first few buttons undone, having shed his suit coat but kept the vest, his father just oozed sex. Peter couldn’t remember a time he hadn’t noticed it. 

But he’d tried. He _had_. It’s just. His parents had gone away for the weekend, and Peter had been allowed to stay home alone for the first time. But he pushed away ideas of wild parties in favor of the one thing his father had always been oddly strict about: their bedroom. Peter never really understood it. When he went to Ned’s house, they would often watch movies with Mr. and Mrs. Leeds in their bedroom, in their bed even. The whole family would.

So, after hugging his parents’ goodbye and waiting a responsible thirty minutes in case they came back, Peter bravely tried the handle of his parent’s bedroom door. They hadn’t even locked it. It’s like they had _wanted_ him to go in, he’d reasoned. 

Once he’d gone in, he had been underwhelmed. It barely looked like anyone even lived in there. Everything was white and gray, with no pictures anywhere, and it was _immaculately_ clean. He had been extra careful not to touch or move anything, just in case they’d notice. Flicking the light on in the closet, Peter had idly look around briefly, feeling disappointed at the lack of anything interesting, and vaguely guilty to have betrayed his father’s trust, when something caught his eye. 

Stepping further into the closet, Peter had bent down to retrieve the box, gasping when he read the label. 

Clone – a – Willy. 

He blushed in mortification, turning the box in his hands to read closer, when he noticed something. The box was empty. Which meant -. 

They’d used it.

It was at that point that Peter had done the only rational thing a young man could do in such a situation. 

He tore his parent’s room apart until he found it. 

He had felt like the luckiest boy in the world, pulling it out from the gold velvet pouch it was hidden in, just sitting in his mother’s nightstand of all places. And then there it was. The exact, and god completely perfect, replica of his daddy’s cock. It was long, but not, Peter thought, too long. Running a finger up one gorgeous vein, his mouth watered at the idea of his fathers thick, god so thick, cock stretching him open.

He ran it through the dishwasher before he used it. Twice. He wasn’t an animal, for God’s sake.

Peter had been quite sore by the time they’d gotten home. And he’d had to wash it again and put it back, face burning at the idea of his parent’s even _suspecting_ what he’d done. He had spent the next few weeks wallowing in shame. 

That is, until the next time work took them out of town. This time, for a whole week. 

Peter was brought back to the present by his dad snapping his fingers in his face, grinning like a maniac. “Must be quite the someone, if they’ve got my boy blushing like that,” his father laughed. 

Thanking every god that was out there, Peter was relieved he didn’t have an erection to hide at this very moment. He met his father’s eyes again, this time trying to look sultry, the way he’d seen in movies, with his eyelids lowered just a bit, and wetting his lips. Peter just hoped he didn’t look stupid. 

“He is,” was all he said. 

“Well who –,” his father, paused, leaning back with a small smile. “He?” 

“Um, yeah. Yeah. Yes. He. And he’s,” Peter hedged, gathering his courage because it was now or never. “He’s…older.”

Tony finger to the slight smile curving his lips, “Of course he is. And may I ask, how much older?”

“Your age,” Peter answered without hesitation.

Well, that wiped the grin right from his dad’s face. 

Tony blinked, certain he had misheard. “Excuse me?”

“I said he’s your age, daddy,” Peter murmured sweetly, feeling the corners of his lips drawing up slightly. He couldn’t help himself; this was just too fun to watch. Peter had always loved it when his dad got protective of him. Goosebumps appeared on his arms, sending a shiver down his spine. 

“Who,” Tony growled, eyes narrowing at his son across from him. If it was someone he knew, some friend, Tony would not hesitate to kill them if they ever laid a hand on his boy. 

It better not be fucking Steve, Tony thought viciously. Gorgeous motherfucker. 

His son opened his mouth to reply, but Tony interrupted. “Has he touched you, whoever this creep is?” Tony demanded. He interrupted again before Peter could respond. “You better hope he hasn’t, because it’ll be the last thing he’ll ever do, I promise you that,” he finished, seething. 

“Well, not exactly,” the boy said, a coy smile playing across that pink mouth. 

Tony had just raised his glass for a much-needed gulp when he paused, glass halfway to his mouth, when he narrowed his eyes once again. 

“I’ve had enough of half answers, Peter Stark,” his father said quietly. “I want answers and you better not keep me waiting.”

Swallowing his fear, Peter stood up and, as calmly as he could, walked over to his father who was no longer slouching but leaning forward, elbows perched on his knees, drink cradled in both hands, and staring at Peter with an intensity that almost made him pause. Almost. 

Now or never, Peter reminded himself.

With that thought in his mind, Peter kept moving, one hand going to Tony’s shoulder, the older man leaning back in surprise, and placed one knee on the side of his father’s thigh and swung the other over to straddle him. Tony had barely opened his mouth to ask what the hell his son was doing when, in a flash, soft lips pressed to his in a gentle kiss. 

Tony was in shock. 

Peter had only pulled back a millimeter, exhaling a breathy ‘daddy’, before diving in again. This time, he pressed just a bit harder, tilting his head to slot their mouths together once, twice, again and again. Tony couldn’t think straight. His son. His son was…hard. 

Placing a hand on Peter’s chest, Tony pushed him gently away, taking a much-needed breath. His lips were still wet from Peter kissing him. From his son kissing him. Why? Why did Peter kiss him?

Suddenly angry, Tony growled low, “What are you doing, Peter?”

Stricken, the boy reared back, panting lightly his lips red and shiny, a beautiful flush working its way up his neck. Tears started to well in his big brown eyes, only making the picture more alluring, Tony admitted to himself grudgingly.   
Tony felt his anger leave as quickly as it came, in the face of his son’s tears. Sitting up, Tony handed his boy the whiskey with a quiet command to ‘drink’. Peter tipped his head back, throat bobbing, as he finished the glass. Taking the cup back, Tony set it down on the end table and wrapped both arms around his boy, pulling him in tight. 

“I’m, I’m,” Peter hiccoughed, “I’m sorry daddy. I just, I just wanted to know how it would feel. How you would feel, for real.”

Tony paused, hands stilling on Peter’s back, at the words. “For real? Just how have you been feeling me up until now, Pete?”

Peter froze atop him, body going tense, as he tried to pull away, but Tony locked his arms around him. “I…”

Tony resumed running his hands in soothing circles up his son’s back, gently encouraging, “I’m waiting boy.” 

“I found the. The one that was you. Or just like you, I guess. In your room and I. Um. Used it. A couple of times, maybe,” Peter murmured, eyes squeezed shut, unable to bear his father’s anger. 

“Um, sweetheart,” his father laughed, completely lost now, “the what like me?”

With a deep breath, Peter opened his eyes and in a long exhale, “The dildo that mom had in her nightstand that was an exact replica of…you.”

Silence filled his father’s office as Peter waited, body tense, for the yelling that was sure to begin any moment. That would definitely wake his mother up. Oh god, his mother. She would know. Peter could feel himself start to panic as he sat in his father’s lap, waiting in agony for his father to say something. But when he did, it was not at all what Peter had been expecting.

His father gave a throaty chuckle, “And it fit?”

At that, his dick gave a jump, reminding Peter that he was sitting in his father’s lap, _hard_. 

“Yes,” he breathed.

“Good boy,” Tony murmured, hands tightening on his son’s waist as he pulled back a fraction to look Peter.

God, it felt like his skin was on fire, every point that touched his dad. Peter whined, leaning in once more to run the tip of his tongue from his father’s bottom lip, to his top, gasping as Tony captured his mouth in a deep kiss, sucking on his tongue as Peter panted. 

But Tony pulled away with a curse. “Fuck. Kid this is not okay. We can’t. I’m your father, this isn’t,” he swallowed as Peter pressed against him, grinding his hips firmly against Tony’s and grinning as he felt his father’s cock.

“Please,” the boy whined, panting as he kept up a steady rhythm thrusting against his father. “I’ll take it so good, I promise, daddy. I’ve practiced. I’ll be so good,” he begged. 

Tony shook his head, resisting even as he pulled his boy closer, ran his over his ear just to make him gasp. The older man felt like he was in a fog; the only thing he could think about was small hands grasping his shoulders, nails digging in, and Peter’s sinful mouth, murmuring all his filthiest fantasies right into Tony’s ear. 

But he couldn’t do this. It wasn’t right. The boy would regret this as soon as it happened, they both would. And Tony didn’t know what he would do with this new-found desire, but he knew he would do whatever he had to, to keep his son. Even if it meant telling him ‘no’. 

Resolved once again, Tony pushed Peter away, firmer this time, until the boy either had to stand or fall to the floor. Getting his feet under him, the boy blinked back at Tony, clearly confused by the sudden change in Tony. 

“Pete,” he began helplessly, “I can’t.” Drawing himself up, he repeated more firmly, “I can’t. And you need to go to your room. Now.”

Peter just shook his head in mute disappointment but turned away, heading for the door. Tony waited for the click of latch but was instead met by the sound of the lock turning. Twisting around to face the door, Tony was greeted by the sight of Peter undressing, already down to his boxers, pulling off one sock and then the other, eyes on his father the whole time. 

Refusing to give in, Tony turned back around with a snort, inwardly trying to control his breathing so Peter wouldn’t see right through him. Pale skin appeared in the corner of his vision and he held his breath. 

Peter narrowed his eyes, determined to get what he wants, and resolved to do whatever he had to do to get it. Mind made up, the boy glided in front of his father and sank to his knees. 

Tony couldn’t look at him. Couldn’t stop looking at him. He was perfect. Tony had always known if of course, but never – never like this. Swallowing thickly, he fixed his gaze over the boy’s left shoulder, trying his hardest not to give in. 

He heard his boy spit followed by the sound of skin on skin, Peter’s low moan as he wrapped a hand around himself, gripping tight. His willpower faltering, he risked a look at the boy, struck speechless by the picture he made. 

Kneeling between his thighs, sat Peter, miles of perfect white skin, a blush sweeping across his chest, down to his cock, which he could already see was leaking. His boy was so wet for him already. Tony clenched his jaw at the thought and drew his eyes up Peter’s body, to his face. He was so perfect. Panting softly, the boy drew his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes struggling to stay open. 

“I’ve thought,” he panted, pulling harder on his cock, “about it so many times, daddy.” At this he glanced down at Tony’s obvious erection, licking his lips. “Don’t you want me, dad? Aren’t I. I’ll be so good, please,” he whined, muscles trembling. 

Tony knew he would cave. He always did when it came to Peter. He must have taken too long to respond because the next thing he knew Peter was on all fours, positioning himself so his tight little ass was pressed right between his father’s thighs, lowering his chest completely to the floor and arching into Tony’s cock as much as he could. 

Tony couldn’t breathe. He was completely fixated on the tight pucker of his boy’s hole, perfectly pink and clenching rhythmically. 

“Oh, Pete,” he murmured, smoothing one callused hand along one pale cheek, as his other undid his belt and pulled out his throbbing cock. 

Glancing over his shoulder, Peter mewled at the sight, licking his lips in anticipation. It was even better in real life. Flushed red, with thick veins, and turning a deep red, his father’s cock bobbed as it was released, fluid beading at the tip. 

Peter went crazy, pushing his hips back more, dying to feel that cock on his skin, in his hole, stretching him and filling him. He gasped as Tony placed a hand on his hip, fingers tight enough to bruise as he hummed. 

“This what you want, sweetheart,” he asked, wrapping a hand around his cock and smacking the tip against his son’s hole, watching it clench again. 

“Yes! Please, daddy, please,” Peter cried out, fingers scrabbling at the floor as his father did it again and again, pushing his ass back in anticipation.

But his father just chuckled darkly, smacking his ass in a warning. “I don’t think you can take the whole thing, Pete. Look how tiny this hole is,” he whispered, his thumb swiping at the bead of fluid on his dick before reaching down to rub it against Peter’s hole with his thumb, pressing in lightly. 

Tony knew he was a sick man for liking the gasp that fell from his son’s lips. 

“I can daddy, I can, I can take it,” he babbled, attempting to reach a hand to his own leaking cock, whining as Tony spanked him again. 

“No,” Tony growled. “Good boys cum just from cock, or not at all. Got it?”

Peter nodded pitifully, whimpering and begging Tony to fuck him. 

“Daddy, please, just,” he gasped as Tony placed the head of his cock against his hole. “Just the tip, daddy. You can just do the tip if you want.”

Groaning, Tony gave in, pressing firmly until, with a pop, the head of his cock breached Peter’s tight hole. He could feel the boy clenching around him already, one hand reaching up to tangle in the boy’s curls. 

“Hngg,” his father moaned, “That it, Pete? You got what you were begging for. Daddy’s cock in that hole, just the tip. What do you say?”

Peter gasped, “Thank you, daddy, mmh, thank you, thank you, please,” he babbled, beginning to push his as back, trying to get more of his daddy’s cock in him.

“Ah, ah,” Tony admonished, “thought you said just the tip, baby. You trying to get more?”

“Please, daddy, want your cum,” the boy mewled. “Want you to fill me up, please.”

“No, baby, daddy doesn’t have any lube in here and you’re gonna need it if you want to take this whole cock up that pretty little ass. But first, you have to earn it,” he growled, pulling the boys hair even harder, forcing him to arch his back. “Make daddy, cum. Just like this. I wanna hear you. Wanna hear what filthy things you’ve been doing with your mother’s dildo. Go on,” he urged.

Peter was basically sobbing now, squeezing his father’s dick, trying to hold off his impending orgasm while simultaneously trying to draw him in further. 

“I, fuck,” he gasped, “I did it in your bed. I put on videos of you, of your voice, god please daddy more, and I fingered myself on your side of the bed. And then I used your cock, it was so much, but I got used to it,” he went on, gritting his teeth against the mental images, the memory of being stretched wide on the toy.

He could hear his father breathing faster behind him, could feel sweat dripping onto his back, could feel starting to nudge his cock in a little deeper, seeming not to notice. Looking over his shoulder, Peter met his father’s eyes, dark with pleasure, lips lifted in a smirk. Almost.

Keeping eye contact with his father, Peter braced his elbows on the floor and started to push back steadily, determined that he would get exactly what he wanted tonight. Tony’s eyes widened as he looked down, watching his cock being swallowed by his Peter’s pink hole. 

Still pushing steadily back, Peter continued, “It felt so good, daddy, your dick stretching me wide open. But that’s not what made me cum,” he panted, almost half of Tony’s cock in his ass now. 

“What – what made you cum, baby?” His daddy was clearly lost in it now, eyes never leaving Peter’s ass. 

Peter went for the kill. “I realized I was fucking myself with the cock that made me.”

Tony slammed into his ass with a whine, pulling back sharply, and thrusting back in again. Over and over until Peter saw stars, his balls drawing up tight, as he clenched on his daddy again. “I want your cum, daddy,” Peter begged, “please. Fill me up. Fill your boy up with your cum.”

“Oh, fuck, sweetheart, that ass is so tight. Fucking perfect. Squeeze down again, that’s it. You’re gonna get that cum, gonna fill your ass with the same cum that made you honey,” he growled, snapping his hips faster as Peter tightened his hole around his father, milking the cum out with a cry as he spilled onto the floor beneath him. 

Tony collapsed onto Peter’s back, gasping for breath as his pulse returned to normal. Pressing a kiss to his boy’s neck, he whispered, “Good boy.”


End file.
